The world will feel her lack

Sometimes weeks just don't pan out the way you think they will or should.  You don't expect to spend what seems like ages in the hospital with dear friends, anticipating the death of a beloved mother, wife, aunt, and friend.  These are the moments that the rest of the year's stores of joy are anticipating.  And just when it seems the night couldn't get any longer or unbearable, our Creator grants us grace and the sun peaks above the horizon, bursting with the freshness of a new day.  And after a sleepless night something magical happens as you bask in the sun's rays, while just around the corner there is a fierce battle for life to behold - all the chaos, struggle, and gray - it is neither life nor death but a painful in between.  All the prayers, love, and light in the world are sent to this little ward as we campaign for those we love, knowing the Master of the Universe is just that, the One who knows and sees his beloved.

We took turns sitting beside my Aunt Kathy as she moved in and out of sleep, flooded with the memories of what was and pleading mercy for what will be.  I couldn't help but notice the profound sense of peace and calm in her face.  I wonder what must it be like to lay there, knowing you are surrounded by friends and family visiting at your bedside because you are dying.  I imagine there must be a unique sense of strength and divine companionship.  

It seemed appropriate that she passed from this life to the next on a Sunday morning.  In the African American community, they would call it her "homegoing."  She went home on the sabbath, shabat, the day that is uniquely set aside for worship, rest and shalom.  She experienced the fullness of our Creator's shalom at last.  

Yesterday we celebrated and honored her life.  We rocked out to a soulful rendition of Precious Lord/Just a Closer Walk With Thee* that she would have loved.  And she would have concluded the day with a good glass of wine.  So we did likewise.

I think it is now, after the hospital, the funeral preparations, and the initial shock of it all is over that must be hardest.  I kept thinking of her husband and kids on the drive back to Chicago, wondering just what you do now.  After its all said and done, she's gone and they have to figure out how to do life without her.  I believe God offers a bit of uncommon grace to such as these, and it is with such grace that they will carry on.  Lord, have mercy.  

When the darkness appears
And the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

*Precious Lord is fittingly a gospel song written by Thomas Dorsey as he grieved the loss of his wife and infant son at childbirth.  It was also Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s favorite song and sung at this funeral.


  1. Thanks Jessica for this!
    Rachael Steenwyk

  2. Jess,
    I read this a month ago and I wept. I tried to write a comment, but words simply didn't come. One month to the day of mom's homecoming I find myself reading it again. I will treasure it always---as well as your presence during those days (and always). Love you, dear friend. I can't wait to see you in a few weeks.